


Long Live The Heart (That Knows What It Wants)

by geckoholic



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dark Magic, F/F, Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26812759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: The oldest house in town sits not in its center, but right at the edge of the town limits. Rumor has it the old building is cursed, that whoever enters will never again be allowed to leave, but Teddy considers that nonsense.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 10
Kudos: 10
Collections: Remix Revival 2020





	Long Live The Heart (That Knows What It Wants)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sqbr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sqbr/gifts).



> Remix of their original art [Jar Of Hearts](https://www.deviantart.com/sqbr/art/Jar-of-Hearts-589081489).
> 
> Not beta-read, so all mistakes are most definitely are mine.
> 
> Title is from "The Heart" by Needtobreathe.

The oldest house in town sits not in its center, but right at the edge of the town limits. It is surrounded by a large garden, hidden from view by centuries-old trees. There is, however, no fence or hedge, no heavy gate denying entry. Whoever pleases can walk down the long driveway, up to the main entrance, and knock to be let in. 

Yet hardly anyone ever does. Strangers looking for help, salesmen smelling old rich people easily conned, children on a dare; those are the only people to ever enter the estate. Everyone else keeps their distance. Rumor has it the old building is cursed, that whoever enters will never again be allowed to leave. Teddy considers that nonsense; she knows about children trick-or-treating there and leaving the premises safe and sound, of delivery men putting packages down on the porch and walking back off the property unbothered.

Even so, being unafraid, she's not sure what draws her to saunter down the driveway on that sweltering summer day. Curiosity, perhaps, or a sense of wanting to prove the rumors wrong. Teddy is in her last year of college, physics major, the last summer break she spends at home before she starts her new job halfway across the continent. Her last summer before she really does need to become an adult. Her last chance to indulge in such childish whims before she leaves the town her forefathers built. 

She doesn't allow herself any second thoughts as she reaches the door, smooths down the creases in her light summer dress before ringing the door bell. The sound reverberates through the home behind the door, too loud among the sound of cicadas around her and the faraway traffic noise from the main road almost a half a mile away. Out here, it almost seems like time stopped long ago, as if the modern world is nothing but a myth or a faraway future. 

But those are idle thoughts, total nonsense, and to separate myth from reality is exactly why Teddy came here. Nothing happens for a few long minutes and she debates leaving, marking this down as a failed experiment, when the voice of a woman, muffled through the solid old door, tells her to wait for a moment, she'll be right there. 

Rooted to the spot, Teddy waits for the doorknob to turn and the door to open, and when it does it is to reveal the sight of the most beautiful woman Teddy has ever seen. Her long curls are done up in a messy ponytail, she's wearing a summer dress not unlike Teddy's own but endlessly more elegant, and she holds out her hand in invitation. 

With a radiant, friendly smile, she gestures for Teddy to step inside. Leads her down a long corridor to a receiving room with an old paisley couch, and asks her to sit and wait, she'll have tea ready in a minute. Before Teddy can protest, tell her that's not needed, she's hurried off down another corridor and Teddy is left to let her eyes roam the rest of the old furniture, solid wood with intricate carvings, and most of all to the large framed portrait hanging over the fireplace. 

The woman in the picture wears a dress that could have been lifted straight from Gone With The Wind and her hair is done up in an elaborate plait, a style from centuries past Other than that, though, she looks like the spitting image of Teddy's hostess, who just then reappears carrying a tablet with a pitcher of iced tea and two glasses. 

“My great-grandmother,” she answers Teddy's unvoiced question. “She was the illegitimate daughter of a housemaid and a stable boy, raised by her mother on the road after they had to leave home to escape the scandal.” Teddy turns to look at her, look her up and down, look at the luxury around them, and the follow-up question must have been clear on her face, because her hostess gives a little laugh. “Oh, I know. She married well. Her husband didn't mind her inappropriate parentage.” 

Teddy's face heats in embarrassment. “I'm sorry,” she starts, “I didn't mean – “

But her hostess waves her concerns away. “It's okay,” she says, setting the tablet down on a tray next to the couch, which must have been meant specifically for that purpose. “What's your name?” 

The sudden proximity sends shivers down Teddy's spine. She's had some... adventures at college, with men and women alike, and she can't help notice the beauty of her hostess, the flowery smell of her perfume, the warm and gentle expression on her face, her head slightly tilted. “Teddy,” she starts, then clears her throat. “I mean, Theodora Lancaster. But everyone just calls me Teddy.” 

The smile on her hostess's face grows a little mischievous, a little conspiratorial. She nudges Teddy's shoulder with her own and winks. “Teddy, then,” she says. “I'm Karina.” 

She pours them each a glass of the tea, hands one of them to Teddy, and they drink in silence. It tastes like the whole house feels – out of its time, prepared with great skill and even greater care – and it serves to cool down Teddy's nerves. 

Karina takes the glass from her once its empty, finishes off her own, and places them both back on the tray. 

“Come,” she says, extending her hand for Teddy to take, and rises to a stand. She nods towards the upstairs – towards the private rooms, if Teddy's not mistaken. 

Heart beating in her throat, Teddy takes the proffered hand and follows Karina up the stairs, down another long corridor, and into a lavishly decorated bedroom. She would never have thought her visit would turn out like _this_ , rather expected an old lady with white hair and a bit of a smell, but she's not opposed to seizing opportunities as she arises. This is her wild youth after all; she can still behave properly, like the well-raised heiress she is, once she's married. 

Karina smiles at her encouragingly, closes the door behind them, and Teddy watches, star-struck, disbelieving, as she strips off her dress – no underwear underneath – and kneels down on the bed, patting the empty space beside her. 

“Come,” she repeats, and Teddy doesn't have to be told twice. 

***

Karina slowly rises from the bed and pulls on the sheer nightgown that she always leaves on a chair by the foot of the bed. It's her favorite, white lace and silk; they don't make dresses like that anymore these days. 

Barefoot, on her tiptoes almost like there's someone still around to catch and lecture her, she saunters down the hallway. Her movements are careful, measured, so as not to disturb the delicate, faintly glowing glass heart she holds in her palm. In the first couple of years, they are all like like this; it will settle later on, grow stronger, sturdier, as the soul contained within them resigns itself to its fate. They are made to last an eternity in her care, after all, but right after harvest they are so breakable. So easy to spook. So easily destroyed – broken, as it were. 

She shields the heart with her other hand, too, held above it for extra protection. Its confusion is evident in the irregular rhythm of its glow, mirroring the rapidly hammering heartbeat of a person in distress. Karina shushes it with gentle whispers. This is not her favorite part, but a necessity, taking what she is owed to fulfill the gift her mother gave to her on her death bed – this tradition, this heritage, this curse; it goes by many names, but the gist of it is this: once she decided to take it on the hearts became her responsibility. She takes them, transforms them, and she cares for them in turn. They all get used to that eventually. 

The stairs down to the cellar creak underneath her weight. She doesn't need to switch on the light – even without the pulsing light of the heart in her palm, she'd know her way in the dark, know it blind. The souls she collected are calling to her, some cursing her out, some promising their devotion, their temperaments as varied as the men and women they used to be. She rounds a corner and pulls an old, heavy key from her pocket, which glows red for a moment as its magic combines with the matching spell in the lock of a wooden door. The door opens on its own, letting her in, and there they are. 

The room is illuminated by over a hundred simple, round jars on pantry shelves, each containing a handful of those glowing hearts. They all shine in slightly different colors, with slightly different strength, and they all belong to her. She pulls the newest jar from its place on a shelf, not yet filled completely, only three souls pulsating inside, all of them in various stages of settling – of understanding their new purpose. With great care, she opens the lid, lets this new heart float from her palm into the jar, smiles fondly at the lot of them, and screws the lid shut. 

She draws the nightgown closed around around her naked body, shivering in the cold air of the cellar now that she doesn't have the heart with her to keep her warm anymore. She gives all those jars on their shelves one last look, full of gratitude but never regret, and turns to leave the room, leave the cellar. 

This new young heart, naive and full of energy, will last her another couple of decades.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [dreamwidth](https://geckoholic.dreamwidth.org/), [tumblr](http://lostemotion.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/spacenerdz).


End file.
